


The Diner

by JayWrites



Category: Actor RPF, American Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, Public Sex, Smut, sexy fun times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 09:27:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2807609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayWrites/pseuds/JayWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is it. This is the straight shooting, “would you like to do the sex?” invitation you were hoping for. The question now is: will you take it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Diner

**Author's Note:**

> I based this fic off of this image:  
> 

You walk into your favorite diner and remove your thick coat and take your usual seat in the booth by the entrance. The waitress smiles and greets you by name as she pours you a cup of coffee—black with two sugars just how you like it. She leaves the menu and tells you to call her whenever you’re ready to order. You thank her and clasp your hands around the steaming cup in front of you. The heat from it feels good on your cold palms. The weather man said it would be a little chilly outside but it’s absolutely freezing. _That lying bastard_ , you think to yourself as you take a cautious sip of the coffee. _It could be snowing outside and he’d say it was a hundred degrees and sunny._

You take another sip of your coffee and let out an “mmm” as the liquid starts to warm you. You’re not really hungry but you glance at the menu anyway. All the options look so amazing that it stirs your appetite. Now you are damn near starving. While you are deciding over what to order you hear the small bell over the diner entrance chime. Instinctively you turn your head to see who the new patron is.

You notice his outfit first. He’s wearing a suit that looks like it would be more appropriate for the ’40s or ’50s under his large tan overcoat. The hat atop his head sits low over his eyes almost as if he doesn’t want to be recognized. _Maybe_ , you playfully think, _he’s a spy hiding out from the C.I.A. and doesn’t want his cover blown._ He removes his hat as he greets the waitress and a few other patrons. Well, there goes your spy theory. He tells the waitress that he’ll have the usual and offers you a passing glance as he walks by. He sits at a table across from you and you suddenly notice that he’s handsome. Devastatingly so. You realize that you’re staring now so you turn your attention back to the menu in your hand. You try to focus on the items that less than a minute ago looked so enticing but your mind (and your vision) wanders back to him.

He has an air of importance about him. Even though you don’t know him you feel like you should. You feel as if his name should be engraved in your memory. As if his voice should elicit a flicker of recognition. As if every part of him should conjure up some image of him being _the_ hot shit. But, from all you know, he’s not. He’s just some handsome stranger sitting across from you in a diner sipping on a cup of coffee the waitress just brought him.

Goddammit! You’re staring again. For the third time that afternoon you look at that damn menu. The options are still the same but you don’t care because you’re no longer hungry. Your intrigue has trumped your appetite. In spite of yourself, you look over at him again. He could be a hitman hired by some harried housewife to get rid of her no good, dirty-rotten, cheating husband. Your eyes scan the diner for the target. You spot an overweight white man in a blue plaid shirt. There’s a dark stripe of sweat down his back and under his armpits. _Oh yeah. That’s the cheating bastard right there. Handsome Hitman is going to pull out a pistol (with a silencer attached, of course) and give him two quick shots in the head before sitting back down and enjoying his lunch._

You chuckle silently to yourself at the ridiculous scenario you’ve just conjured in your head. You glance back at Handsome and you find him now watching you. _Shit!_ You quickly turn your head to that godforsaken menu but your eyes dart back and forth between it and him. Every time they land on him you see that he is still watching you. _Shit! Shit! Shitfuck! Shit!_ You have the urge to blurt out an apology or run straight out of the diner (cold weather be damned). But you don’t do either of these things. Instead you shift uncomfortably in your seat and mentally pray that something—someone—else catches his eye.

You look over at him from the corner of your eye. Dammit. Still staring. You are suddenly very conscious of everything about yourself: the way your chest rises and falls when you breathe; the fact that you’re slightly slouching; the fact that you have been gently nibbling at one corner of your mouth for the last minute; the way your fingers are drumming against the back of the laminated menu in your hands. Every nervous tick and habit that you have long grown accustomed to now feels as if they are involuntarily performing a show stopping Broadway number just for him. Fuck this! You didn’t come in here today to be stared at. (You quickly roll your eyes at yourself as the irony finally hits you). You dig in your purse for your wallet to pay the check and just when you find it you hear a voice ask, “Leaving so soon?”

Your heart begins to thump in your chest. You turn and look up to find Handsome staring down at you with a gap toothed smile that makes him look even more adorable. “W-well I-I-I…,” you stutter out as your mind races to find an answer to his question. You could kick yourself for letting your nervousness display. He chuckles at you and now you want to kick him instead. You find your courage starting to return. You clear your throat and say, “Well, if you must know—and I’m pretty sure you do not—I have somewhere very important to be.”

“Oh really,” he asks in a mocking tone. “Why do I feel this suddenly important somewhere is anywhere far from me?”

“It has nothing to do with you,” you lie as you continue to search for your wallet. One of these days you’re going to clean out and properly sort this duffel bag sized purse.

“See now I find that hard to believe seeing as you have been staring at me non-stop for the last ten minutes.” He smirks as he says this and you feel as if your stomach has just jumped into your throat. Which arm is supposed to go numb when you’re having a heart attack? You want to apologize but you fear that your embarrassment might make you reply in stutters again. Instead you go opt to ignore him and his questions. You figure that if you don’t make eye contact with him or speak at all the less chance you’ll have of making yourself look even more of an ass.

You pull your wallet out of your purse, open it, and place a few dollars on the table to pay for your coffee and the tip. As you are doing this he slides into the seat in front of you. How bold of him to just sit down as if he’s owns the fucking place. (Shit for all you know he probably does). “What’s your name,” he asks with that fucking smile again. You notice a slight southern accent but you can’t quite place it. Yet the sound of it is like a beautiful melody to your ears.

 _I bet it must be the most delightful torture to hear that accented voice panting in your ear while he’s deep inside you._ Goddammit. Where the hell did that come from? You push the thought away as you reach for your purse. “No,” you reply to his question as you finally close your wallet and casually drop it back in your purse.

“‘No’? Hmm… I like it. It’s a bit unusual but it cuts right to the point. Must be hell in a conversation, though. Are people talking to you or answering in the negative? I guess you’ll never know, No, ya know?” Dammit he’s funny, too. A girl could get lost in the charm and looks of a man like this. “Oh, now c’mon, girl,” he says. “You know that was a good one.”

He smiles again and this time you notice that his big brown eyes seem to sparkle when he does. Your initial apprehension seems to melt away. You can’t help but to smile back. “Yes,” you say softly. “I-I guess it was…okay.”

“Aww, c’mon, No. That was some of my best material!”

“ _That’s_ your best stuff? Dear god please tell me you’re not a comedian.”

He gives a hearty laugh at your joke. You’re not that funny but he seems genuinely amused and his laugh is so infectious that you find yourself joining in. “Damn. That was gonna be my next career choice if this current one didn’t work out.”

“What do you do?”

“Guess."

“I don’t know. I’m thinking either spy or hitman.”

“Ooh. I like those.”

“Much better than comedian, I think.”

“Well, hold on now. I could be a hitman spy and use the comedian as a cover.”

You playfully scrunch up your face. “I don’t know. If you keep telling those ‘know/no’ jokes they might get hip to you.”

He gives another hearty laugh and it seems as if you can feel the vibration of it ripple throughout your body. Now you’re thinking that he might be great fun in bed. You always did love a man with a good sense of humor. You push the thought away. Damn your subconscious to hell! It was bad enough that you couldn’t stop staring at him like some obsessed teenager swooning over a poster of her favorite boy band; but now you couldn’t stop thinking about fucking him like some kind of pervert. In all fairness, though, it has been four years since you’ve last had sex. Four very long and tough years. Hell, you swore there was a buzzard sitting outside your bedroom window this morning patiently waiting for your dying sex life to finally keel over. Besides, as long as you keep those dirty thoughts to yourself there isn’t any real harm in it, is there? You could sit here and make polite conversation for the next ten minutes or so while you mentally store everything about this sexy bastard in your spank bank.

“You never did tell me your real name, No.”

“You tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.’’ And now you’re flirting with him. _Great. Calm down, libido._

“Anthony. But my friends call me ‘Tony.’ Well, friends and lovers.” He says “lovers” as if it’s an invitation. You wonder what you would do if it were.

Sure your level of horniness is so damn high it could probably qualify as a medical condition but you’ve never been the girl to sleep with a guy on the first date (or whatever the hell this was). You never judged those women that did but you’ve never been the type that had sex outside of a long-term committed relationship. But wouldn’t it be nice if you just said “fuck it all” and spent the night letting this fine ass man work out the four years of pent up stress that neither your fingers nor your vibrator could relieve? Oh god now you desperately wanted an invitation. A straight, no bullshit, “would you like to fuck me? yes or no?” invitation. You would be on his dick so fast he wouldn’t even know what hit him.

“So,” he coaxes; his voice once again pulling you from your thoughts. “I told you my name. What’s yours? Fair’s fair.” He was right. Fair is fair. You tell him your name and he smiles as he repeats it. It sounds like he’s making love to your name in that accent of his. “I like it,” he says finally. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you say with a smile.

“So are you ever gonna tell me why you were staring at me?” Oh he just _had_ to ask you that question again didn’t he?

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so rude. It’s just…I thought you were so intriguing. I mean, your outfit was-is intriguing.”

“Aww, girl. And here I thought you found me good looking or something.”

“Well you’re that, too.” The words fly out your mouth before you can stop yourself. What you wouldn’t give to be an ostrich right about now. The sand would be a most excellent place to bury your head.

“Thank you.” You see his eyes roam over your face and down to your chest before coming back up to meet your eyes. “You’re not so bad yourself. I’m sure you noticed me staring back.”

“Yeah. I thought you were just paying me back for my rudeness.”

“Nah. I’m not that immature. I was actually hoping you would come over and say something. But when I noticed you getting ready to leave I couldn’t risk my chance to say ‘hi’ to you. I hope I didn’t upset you."

“No. Well you did. I mean not like _that_. I…” You close your eyes and shake your head. You take a deep breath before continuing. “I just didn’t actually expect you to come over and say anything.”

He nodded that he understood. “And are you glad that I did?”

“At first, not so much but now…,” you shrug your shoulders and cross your arms on the table, “I gotta be honest, I’m glad you did, Anthony.”

“Please, call me ‘Tony’.”

“I thought only friends and lovers called you that.”

“They do.”

“So,” you begin, “which one am I?” You mentally curse your libido for speaking for you.

“Which one would you like to be?” You knew which answer you wanted to blurt out but you bit your lips in hopes of preventing that four year—four long and very hard years—desire from speaking for you again. He reached over and placed his warm palm on the back of your hand. “I know which one I’d like you to be.”

You briefly look down at his hand before looking back up into his warm brown ones. This is it. This is the straight shooting, “would you like to do the sex?” invitation you were hoping for. The question now is: will you take it? Will you say “no” and risk going another four years without feeling the touch of a lover? (You’re sure the battery companies would thank you for personally keeping them in business but your poor vagina might close up in protest.) Or will you give in to the desire that has been building between your legs from the moment he placed his hand on yours?

You slowly and silently nod your agreement.

He says nothing as he looks around the diner. You figure he’s checking for any prying eyes from the other patrons. You furrow your brow in confusion as to why he’s doing this. You assumed that maybe he would hail a cab back to his place or arrange some rendezvous spot but now you’re not so sure. You open your mouth to question him but before the words could come out he slides out of his seat, gently grabs you by the wrist, and pulls you out as well.

Your heels clack along the marble floor as he continues to pull you to a bathroom in the back of the diner. Bathroom sex? Really? That wasn’t even hot when you were a horny teenager and you’re pretty sure it’s even less hot now. “Anthony, I don’t think—”

He puts his index finger to your lips to silence you. He opens the door and peeps his head in. He pulls you inside and closes and locks the door behind you. You open your mouth to protest again but the second he turns back to you he’s on you.

There are certain advantages to having a lover that you almost forget about in a four year drought. You forget how good a soft pair of lips pressed firmly against yours feel. You forget that a playful bite on your bottom lip can send a jolt of what feels like electricity through your entire body. You forget how vulnerable you feel when a hand grabs the back of your head and (either gently or roughly) pulls it back so that eager lips can leave wet licks and kisses on your neck. You forget that the concave between your neck and shoulder is one of the many spots that make you go weak in the knees when a lover’s teeth gently grazes across it. You forget how it feels to have a lover’s hands desperately yank at your clothing and free your yearning body from it’s confines. You close your eyes and let his soft lips and nimble tongue remind you.

You let out moans of appreciation as he wraps his warm mouth around your hard nipple. Your back arches as he pauses sucking on your tit to gently bite your nipple. The action sends more electricity through your body. You’re so wet now that it feels like a pool between your legs. You want—no need—him inside you. You open your mouth to relay this desperation but the feeling of Anthony’s tongue moving to your other breast takes the words from you. His tongue flicks it first before catching the bud between his lips and sucking on it; while he does this the thumb of his hand caresses the breast he just left. His hand moves from your breast to the top button of your pants. If you knew you were going to do this today you would have worn a skirt for easy access.

While he’s working on unbuttoning and unzipping those damn pants, his mouth moves from your breast and meets your lips again. God how you missed kissing! Especially with a kisser as good as Anthony. He kisses you as if you both were lovers in a past life. He presses his lips against yours—hungry but not too rough—and ensnares your bottom lip between his and sucks on it. Meanwhile his hand slips into your panties. Your mouth drops open at the feeling of his fingers rubbing against your lower lips. You let out a moan as he slips one finger then another inside. It has been too long since you felt fingers that weren’t your own inside you.

“Damn, girl,” you hear him say as he moves his digits in and out of you. “You’re so fucking wet.” You’re embarrassed at the whine that leaves your mouth as he removes his fingers out of you—you are nowhere near close to coming. He brings his fingers to his lips and sucks them. Okay. _Now_ you are.

He drops to his knees in front of you. He grabs the waist of your pants and panties and pulls both off your hips. He helps you step out off of the leg of the bundled pile that now lie at your feet. He tells you to get a good grip on the shelf over your head where a tacky plastic plant sits as he lifts your free leg and places it on his shoulder. You barely have a decent grab on the shelf when you feel his tongue move up then back down your slit causing you to let out a shudder. He separates your lips with his thumb and index and repeats the action between your folds. His tongue finds your clit and flicks it.

“Hmm…yes…,” you call at the feeling. He flicks at it again but this time he applies a little pressure. “Oh god yes!” Damn you missed getting your pussy licked. He inserts two fingers inside you again and begins to move them in and out. He moves them slowly at first but then he steadily increases his speed.

“An-Anthony,” you call out as he fucks you with his fingers and tongue. Oh god you’re so close. Your grip tightens on the self over your head as you rock your hips against his mouth and hand. Just a little bit more. He sucks on your clit as he curls his fingers inside you. That does it. Your legs tremble and you scream out "Fuck!" so loudly as you come that it echoes off the walls. You clutch the shelf so hard that you’re sure you could rip it and the bolts straight from the walls.

Anthony still licks at you. One orgasm, it seems, wasn’t enough. You shudder as his tongue dances across your tender clit. He trails his tongue down between your folds and his fingers and tongue trades places. Now his tongue is fervently lapping at you as his fingers work at your clit. It doesn’t take long for you to come again. He lets out an “mmm” as he licks up your juices. He places one last kiss on your lower lips before rising back to his feet. You give him a hazy smile as you watch him lick you off his lips.

“That was…amazing,” you say as you rest against the wall behind you.

“Yeah, it was,” he jokingly replies. You roll your eyes before laughing along with him. He leans in and in a low voice whispers, “Ready for round two?”

How could you not be with him talking in your ear like that? “Oh hell yes,” you say as you pull him in for a kiss. You got to admit you taste delicious on his lips. Your hand moves down the front of his pants and you feel that he his rock hard and, from what you feel, of very impressive size. You are already working on his belt when you hear a knock at the door. You let out a surprised gasp.

“Ma’am,” a female voice calls from the other side of the door. “Are you okay? We heard yelling.”

Anthony bury his face into your neck and you feel him laugh against your skin. You cover your mouth in an attempt to calm your own laughter. You take a deep calming breath before you speak. “Shh,” you tell the still laughing Anthony. “Um…yes, I’m alright. I’ll, uh, I’ll be out in a minute.” Anthony makes a face at you when you say “minute.” “Uh…better make that five,” you correct yourself.

“Or fifteen," Anthony calls out before laughing. Your eyes grow wide and you playfully tap his chest before succumbing to your own laughter.

The woman murmurs something but you can’t make it out and you don’t care anyway. Because now Anthony is staring at you lustfully with those beautiful brown eyes of his. He grabs your wrist and pulls you to the counter and helps you hop up on it. He brings a hand to one side of your face and he kisses you again. The other hand reaches down to free his aching cock but suddenly he pulls back and swears.

“Fuck!” He pats the pockets of his shirt and pants as if he’s looking for something. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck! I, uh, I don’t have any condoms on me.”

“Fuck!”

“Yeah. Do you have any?” You’re tempted to let out a loud bitter laugh but you silently shake your head instead. He looks over and notices an old condom dispenser hanging on the wall. He reaches in his pocket, pulls some change out of it and puts it in the dispenser.

“Anthony, I don’t think that old machine is gonna—”

“A-ha!” Anthony turns and proudly displays the wrapper.

“Are you seriously trying to fuck me with a condom that expired in 1974?”

“This is still good.” He shows you the recent expiration date. “See? Now do you still wanna do this? Let a brother now before I go soft.” You chuckle and grab his suspenders and pull him into another kiss.

He steps back from you and frees his cock from him pants. God you want nothing more than to hop off that counter and take that beautiful cock into your mouth. Instead you watch as he slowly strokes himself as he hands you the condom. You unwrap it and roll it over the tip and down his shaft.

He grabs your thighs and pulls you closer to the edge of the counter. He teases the tip of his cock between your lips. He grabs the back of your head with his free hand and pulls you in for another kiss. He’s still teasing your pussy as he kisses you. You rock your hips in an attempt to guide him where you want him to be. He licks up your lips causing them to part slightly. He sticks his tongue in your mouth and flicks it against yours. Right when your tongues are about to wrestle one another he eases into you. Your mouth drops as he slowly fills you. He pulls out halfway then moves back in; he pulls out almost fully before moving back inside you.

He continues to tease you like this while his tongue wrestles with and flicks at yours. His hands trail your body as he begins to find his rhythm. Oh this! This is what you miss most of all! You begin to move your hips to meet his rhythm. His tongue moves from inside your mouth and dances across your flesh. First it moves across your lips, then your chin and jaw; he pauses to nibble at that spot where your shoulder and neck meets. His strokes are increasing inside you now.

You buck your hips against his faster now. You are no longer trying to meet his rhythm; you are creating your own. He groans into your neck as his hands moves up to your breasts. He grabs and pinches a nibble before covering his mouth over your tit. “Fuck,” you call out. You search for something to hold on to. You unknowingly grab the faucet and turn it on. The sound of rushing water adds to the grunts and groans and the sound of your hips slapping together that already dominate the atmosphere. You feel a few drops of the lukewarm water splash onto your bare ass but you ignore it. You are lost in how wonderful Anthony is fucking you.

He sinks his nails into your thighs as he drives himself into you harder. “Ah! Fuck! T-Tony!” Yes. He said that is the name his friends and lovers call him and right now you are most definitely the latter. You repeat this name over and over as his cock begins to rub against that spot inside you. You are so close now. His lips meet yours again but this time his mouth crushes against yours. Your arms and legs wrap around him as you feel your orgasm build. He continues slamming into harder and harder until your orgasm washes over you like a waterfall. Your toes curl and your body spasms as you come. Your nails rake down his back. If he wasn’t still wearing his shirt his back would carry eight long love lines. You pant as he continues to stroke into you a couple times before he clenches his teeth and mumbles your name as his cock twitches inside you.

You both remain in your embrace as you try to catch your breaths. It’s been four years since you had a partner that made you come. (Truthfully it’s been longer since you had one that made you come as hard as Anthony had). You place appreciative kisses across his face. He reaches behind you and turns off the faucet. You both chuckle at this.

“So,” you say as you wipe the sweat from his brow. "I never did find out what’s the deal with this damn suit."

“Well,” he begins as he pulls away from you. He helps you off the counter and you immediately begin to adjust your bra and sweater as he disposes of the condom down the toilet. “I’m an actor,” he casually says.

You are working on putting your panties back on when he says this. The revelation is like a slap in the face. “That’s why you looked so familiar! Oh my god you’re Anthony Mackie!”

He smiles and places a kiss on your forehead before working on readjusting his clothes. “The one and only. I’m playing a 1930’s detective of sorts. Hence the suit.”

“So they just let you walk off the set with their shit," you ask while pulling your pants over your waist.

“Nah. I’m actually supposed to be on a lunch break but that ended…,” he glanced at the time on his watch, “about ten minutes ago.”

“Holy shit. Are you going to get in trouble,” you ask in genuine concern.

He smiles at your question and walks towards the door and unlocks it. “They can’t fire me, baby. I am the movie.” This statement comes out more charming than arrogant and it causes you to chuckle lightly as you shake your head. “But you’re asking the wrong questions.”

You furrow your brow. “What do you mean?”

“Well the whole dinner knows what we were up to in here thanks to you. So the question is: are you ready to face your captive audience?” Your eyes widen at the question and again all your nervous ticks put themselves on full display. You ponder it over for a moment before deciding what the hell. You might have been sorry about hogging the bathroom or being too loud but you sure as shit wasn’t about to apologize for the amazing sex you just had. No. That was just what you needed. And if you were lucky you could get it again before filming wraps.

You check your clothing one last time and take a deep breath as Anthony opens. You straighten your back and hold your head high as you exit to face your (hopefully) adoring public.


End file.
